


Let Me See Your Beauty (When the Witnesses Are Gone)

by SilverBird13



Series: Rule 63-Verse Series [9]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Clothing Porn, Cosette's First Ball, F/F, It's canon and I couldn't resist throwing it in, Look up M. Gillenormand, Marking, Proud Mama Valjean, Rule 63, So much smut, Valjean has a kink, fem!vert is still sassy, or complex or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now I know why men don’t wear gowns,” Javert remarks as their stiff petticoats bump together, preventing her from drawing Valjean into a kiss. “Besides their lack of bosom, of course.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me See Your Beauty (When the Witnesses Are Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt involving 63!JVJ and grinding while clothed. I'm sorry it's 3 weeks late!

  
They bustle through the door, sweating and itching and too strung for sleep. The ball had been beautifully arranged, they’d agreed back in the carriage (even if Javert had been loathe to admit it without a little coaxing), and Cosette had done a wonderful job for a first-time hostess (“That lawyer, however....what on Earth does the girl see in him?  Wit and poise?”).  Valjean had practically glowed with pride for the last six hours (for Cosette had fairly begged them to dress with her, and Valjean couldn’t deny the girl anything, much to Javert’s annoyance), and her elation is still written clearly in the lines of her face as she clasps Javert’s hand and grins almost soppily.  
  
Javert pulls her lover into the living room, swinging her around in an awkward parody of the dancing they’d (for the most part) thankfully been able to avoid, drawing a giggle from the older woman as the last remnants of her chignon meet their end.  
  
“Now I know why men don’t wear gowns,” Javert remarks as their stiff petticoats bump together, preventing her from drawing Valjean into a kiss. “Besides their lack of bosom, of course.”  
  
Valjean giggles like a maiden and pulls away, flopping into a nearby chair with tipsy grace.  “And you are as fine as any man, Javert,” she says, lips curling up in a mimic of her lover’s smirk.  “So undress.”  
  
Javert turns and rolls her eyes at the feeble attempt, reaching up to pull out the pins securing her bun and failing miserably as her thick, straight hair refuses to release them as eagerly as Valjean’s curls had.  
  
“Let me help,”  Valjean says softly, rising to stand on her toes to reach the top of Javert’s head and picking through it for the pins as gently as a mother bird.  When all the pins are collected in her palm, she lifts the ends of Javert’s hair to her lips and kisses it gently.  
  
“Would you like me to unlace you?”  Valjean asks quietly, placing the grips on a nearby table as Javert combs her hair inelegantly through her fingers, displacing some of the pomade Cosette swore was the strongest she had.  A grunt of assent from the woman before her urges Valjean on, and she makes quick work of the fine navy bodice and skirt, letting them drop to the floor with the three petticoats not far behind.  
  
Javert steps out of the circle of fabric, toeing off her slippers to face Valjean in just her loosened undergarments and emitting a sigh that couldn’t be called anything but obscene, her head falling back as she revels in her freedom.  
  
“Damn these gowns.  How did you stand these petticoats even when they weren’t in fashion?” Javert snorts, tracing her lean fingers along the buttons securing Valjean’s bodice.  
  
Valjean pauses and averts her eyes, pale hair falling over her face.  “I was cautious back then, and a cage felt safe. But now I have nothing to hide, _ma chere_ ,” she answers fondly, bringing her hand to Javert’s cheek and drawing her thumb along the sharp bones there.  
  
Javert slinks behind Valjean, and she feels arms around her waist as Javert tucks her chin into Valjean’s neck.  “I am much the same,” she whispers as she lets her hand trail along the sharp, firm curves covered by Valjean's gown.  “Would you like to see?”  
  
“Oh yes,” Valjean breathes, letting herself be led over to the chair again, only releasing Javert’s hand when she feels a kiss pressed to her knuckles.  Javert, thankfully, only has to shake off the unlaced corset and her drawers, though she still manages to release a string of curses at the fabrics as she nearly rips them from her body.  Valjean finds herself enthralled as she watches the garments fall to the floor, revealing the woman’s fine form, more shapely than her own despite the years of police work.  Once she is bare before her lover, she notes where the woman's gaze has fallen and groans.  
  
“Dear God, Jeanne.  Why on Earth do I give you excuses like this to look at the damn things?”  Javert chuckles, glaring at a full breast before lifting it into her hand and running her thumb across it, causing both women to draw a sharp intake of breath.  
  
“Because you love me,”  Valjean breathes as Javert, clad only in her stockings, makes her way over to her lover and wastes no time straddling one of her still-covered legs.    
  
“I would call it that, Jeanne,” she whispers before tilting her head down to kiss Valjean, greying hair brushing against her lover’s temples.  Javert is impatient tonight, however, and it isn’t long before she begins to trail her lips lower, reaching a hand up to push back the skirts covering Valjean and thrusting her hand inside the other woman’s drawers.  As she begins to flick at the little bump and massage her opening the way Valjean likes, Javert lets herself begin to rock against the fabric of the woman’s gown, gasping against her collarbone at the feel of the rough fabric rubbing against her.  
  
“J-Javert,” Valjean whimpers, flinging one white-knuckled hand from the arm of the chair and reaching to grasp at her lover’s back, “More, please, you-you know what I...”  
  
Javert smirks at the plea, the sensations coursing through her only intensifying at the woman's words.  “What, Valjean? Want to suck at my bosom like a babe?  Have me push you face-down on the rug and fuck you with four fingers?   Let me pet your belly like a good girl until you fall asleep in my arms?”  Valjean gasps again, and Javert knows from the heat against her hand and in her own belly that they’re both close.  She thrusts her body forward, grinding hard against Valjean’s knee one last time as she guides the woman’s face to her breasts and lets her nuzzle them as Javert babbles through her orgasm, her words bringing her partner to the brink as well.  
  
“Oh Jeanne, you’re mine, yes, come for me now, yes, let me feel it-”   
  
As is her custom, Valjean stokes and pats Javert through her pleasure while Javert simply stares at her, pale eyes hazy and arms tight around the older woman.  
  
“Now,” Javert remarks as soon as her breathing evens out, “that’s better.”  
  
Valjean sighs beneath her and smoothes a curl away from her neck.  “What do you mean, _ma chere_?”  
  
“Your gown,”  Javert replies, pulling herself off of the other woman and tapping a wide spot spreading on the fabric with her finger.  
  
“Javert!”  Valjean cries, more shocked than upset.  “That’s obscene!”    
  
Javert raises her eyebrows and grins.  “Perhaps now Monsieur Gillenormand will know not to court you at balls.  You are taken, _ma chere_.”  
  
Valjean frowns.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.  It would’ve been impolite not to dance with him, no matter how I wished it was you instead.”  
  
Seemingly satisfied with her answer and actions, Javert pulls the other woman up and fairly drags her into their shared bedroom, a placated tigeress with her prized catch.


End file.
